The next day was no better. Harry didn't fight him, but he also didn't seem to want anything to do with him. Eventually, Blaise figured out that it might not be intentional. Snape had allowed Harry to go out some on the one day, but the man's temper was short right now, even with the Slytherins, so the fact that Harry didn't come to lunch on Wednesday and didn't whisper or pass notes in class wasn't really a surprise. It might not even be because Harry was mad. And Blaise had asked that Harry not get him in trouble, so that made sense, too.

It was just miserable. By the end of the school day, Blaise couldn't stand it – absolutely everybody was furious with him, right now, and thoughts of the Weasley's supposed adoption fought to surface when there was nothing he could do about the issue and his stomach felt like it might twist itself apart every time Blaise was reminded of it. He wished he had someplace to hide that wasn't his dorm, but barring that, he needed to find somebody who at least understood, some. Which meant Harry. Even if his friend was just as furious with him as everybody else, he had to at least know.

When his last class got out, Blaise milled around in the hallways for awhile before finally clenching his jaw and heading directly for Snape's office, deep in the bowels of Hogwarts castle. Before, the knocker had been louder than expected, nearly startling him, but this time he remembered and used it more softly. As before, there was no sound from inside, but the door opened promptly to reveal his head-of-house.

“Mr. Zabini,” Snape greeted forbiddingly.

“Sir,” Blaise said shortly. It was the best he could do without showing his nerves. It was not being a good week, and while he'd faced up to the man before when he had to, today Snape's serious gaze killed any courage he still had. Could he see Harry? Of course he couldn't see Harry. Harry was confined to Snape's quarters because Blaise had put him in danger. What had he been thinking, to face Snape and try again?

But - “Do you have your homework assignments with you, Mr. Zabini?” Snape asked him.

Homework? “Y-yes, sir,” Blaise answered.

“Good,” the man said. “Come in.”

It was enough of a surprise that Blaise just stared at him for a second, but Snape opened the door wider and motioned him inside. Blaise looked down, but walked past him into the office. To his surprise, Harry was there, and not in Snape's quarters. He knelt on the floor behind – his trunk? What was Harry's trunk doing in Snape's office?

Harry frowned briefly at him, then looked to Snape questioningly.

“Mr. Zabini,” Snape said shortly. Blaise moved his gaze from Harry to him, then followed his head-of-house's extended finger to a smaller desk set up kitty-corner to the man's own. “Sit.”

Oh. It looked like talking with Harry was not going to be an option. But at least he wouldn't be alone. And the room was quiet, free of other students, and – actually he didn't want to talk, anyway. This was - perfect.

“Thank you, sir,” he offered quietly.

“You're welcome,” Snape told him.

Severus watched surreptitiously as Blaise settled down at Harry's desk and began digging through his backpack. So, so serious. And barely able to speak to Severus. He'd known that the boy held him in a certain awe, but just the other day the boy had managed to stand up to him enough to push to see Harry. Now-

Harry had told him the night before that the Weasleys had decided to adopt the boy, which Severus had not told him, so Blaise must know about it. Why was the boy so terrified, now?

Though Harry had gone through a similar period, Severus remembered. When he'd first said he'd wanted to adopt him, Harry had walked on eggshells around him for months, alternating between furiously angry and so careful Severus wanted to provoke him just to be sure his Harry was still in there. And to then be able to prove, yet again, that he wasn't going to somehow un-adopt him just because Harry was Harry.

The paperwork coming through had helped, but not enough. Harry was still really struggling. But he'd finally been getting more comfortable with him – comfortable enough, even, to prank him – and then Blaise had dragged him through the trapdoor on the third floor. Hopefully being grounded would prevent Harry from backsliding too far. Harry hated being grounded, but it actually seemed to calm him. Presumably because Harry couldn't decide Severus wanted nothing to do with him if Severus insisted on keeping him close all the time.

But that was Harry. This was Blaise. And the Blaise he knew was a much more confident type than Harry. This quiet, deferential child who came to his door and couldn't manage to speak to him was nothing like the Blaise he knew.

Harry was watching, too, he noticed. He was completely distracted from his Transfigurations work and was looking over his trunk at his friend, a frown on his face. Severus met his eyes, and pointed at the trunk. Harry glared at him, and Severus raised his eyebrows. Harry's expression changed immediately, and he looked pleadingly between Severus and his friend. But Severus couldn't do much more than he was doing, for Blaise. The last thing the boy would want right now was conversation with Severus. And Harry was still in trouble, and still behind on work from his suspension. Severus pointed again to the trunk.

Apparently Harry really was relaxing again, because that gained him another glare. And that was enough. Restraining himself from simply pointing to the corner – which would be a bit harsh, with Blaise here – Severus instead crooked a finger at his son. Harry glared even harder, and Severus restrained a sigh. Stubbornness and fear could be difficult to tell apart, with Harry.

“Harry,” Severus spoke up. “Come here.”

Until then, Blaise hadn't noticed anything amiss, but that got his attention, and he looked up. Severus focussed on Harry, who got up and finally did as he was told, coming to stand before Severus with a mutinous expression on his face. Severus silently cast Silencio, isolating their conversation from Blaise sitting at the other desk.

“Do you obey me, or do I send you to the corner?” he asked Harry softly.

“But-” Harry started.

“Choose,” Severus told him shortly.

“I didn't do anything!” Harry protested. “And Blaise-” His voice dropped even further as he said the name, clearly aware of his friend and not used to silencing spells.

“I will worry about Mr. Zabini,” Severus told him. “You will do your Transfiguration work. Is that clear?”

Harry just scowled at him, mute, and Severus restrained a sigh. There were times that Harry was willing to blow the building sky high if he couldn't find a way through the door. This was starting to look like one of those times. Let him, Severus reminded himself for the three-hundredth time since the adoption. If Harry was going to destruction-test everything, Severus just needed to pass those tests. Harry was calming, and Severus couldn't think of any other way through.

It was no surprise that Harry was struggling now, though. He'd had a really miserable week since he'd been suspended. Which was exactly what Severus had intended, and did not give Harry an excuse to disobey him now. “Choose, Mr. Potter,” Severus said softly. “And if you curse at me, I will take that as your choice.”

For a moment, Severus was on tenter hooks, meeting Harry's glare and waiting for him to make his decision. He was tempted to try and will Harry to choose one way or another, but an ethical Legilimens had to learn early on not to do that. As Harry had discovered, magic responded to your will. Silently pushing someone to do something was far too likely to actually work, whether he'd intended to use magic or not.

And Harry was trying not to blow up at him. Severus could see the effort. Perhaps he could help, some. “I will help Blaise, Harry. You have my word. But you are still grounded. Have you forgotten why?”

Harry just kept glaring, and Severus was losing patience. “I'll remind you, then,” Severus told him. “First there was the dog. But that was fine – as you pointed out, all you had to do was steal from me and the problem was easy to solve.” Harry's glare softened a little, at that, but the boy had asked for it, and Severus continued.

“The Devil's Snare wasn't your fault, of course; you didn't even know what was down there before you jumped down the hole.” He could hear the thick sarcasm in his own voice, his anger returning as he recalled the various traps that came after the Devil's Snare.

“Then there were the flying keys, the homicidal chess set, the troll, and the Draught of Living Death,” he continued, counting on his fingers. “By the time I figured out where you were and summoned the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall for help, you'd already miraculously survived all four of those, as well. I still don't know exactly how, as they were designed to kill or maim anyone who got past the dog and the plant alive.”

Harry's eyes were wide, and Severus finally let his tone soften as his anger faded. “I had been praying for a good half an hour that you were still rescuable when I finally found Mr. Zabini and Miss Granger in the last chamber, and even then I didn't know what state I'd find you in. I've told you before that I'd rather make you hate me than lose you. That has not changed.”

Harry blinked, and pursed his lips, but Severus didn't stop. “You're miserable right now,” he told his son. “I understand that, and I will make some allowances for it. But I very much hope that you remember how miserable you are right now the next time you're thinking about following a friend into something this foolish. I love you, and I forgive you, but I will not apologize for punishing you.”

He kept his tone gentle, even as he chose his words to bite. It seemed to do the trick...sort of. Instead of screaming at him, Harry swallowed, clenched his jaw, and turned sharply away from him and towards the wall.

Which could be an expression of anger, but - Harry's shoulders were shaking. Severus was sure Harry was trying to control his emotions – he always did – but that control was failing rapidly. Damn. He should've pulled Harry from the room, not just silenced the conversation. Particularly if he was going to be harsh enough to make the boy cry. Standing up out of the silenced area, Severus spoke briefly to Blaise, who was overtly ignoring their conversation. “I will return in just a moment.”

Gently gripping the back of Harry's neck, Severus walked him through the door into his potions laboratory and shut the door. Immediately, the boy's tears spilled over, and Severus adjusted his grip to pull Harry into his arms.

Stop it. Stop it stop it stop it you pathetic loser. I hate you. I hate you; I hate Snape; I hate this; I hate Blaise. I'm done. I'll...run away or something. He couldn't do this for another week. He just – couldn't.

But he'd been awful and Snape had been so mad and he just wanted it to be over but instead he'd made Snape mad at him again and there was nowhere on earth he'd rather be than the man's arms, right now. Gripping onto Severus' robes with both hands, he pushed his face hard into the man's torso as he felt the man's arms anchoring him there. He was tempted, horribly, to beg. Don't leave. I'll be good. Please don't leave. But that was pathetic.

“I'm s-sorry,” he managed to tell his father eventually.

“Shh,” Snape told him softly. “You earned yourself a scolding, that's all.”

“I'm horrible,” Harry told him.

Snape's arms tightened around him, but when he spoke he sounded faintly amused. “Would you feel better if I washed your mouth out?”

“No!” Harry said emphatically. He didn't think Snape was serious, but just on the off chance...

But Snape just snorted softly. “Then don't talk that way. You know better.”

“Hmm,” Harry told him dubiously. He did know better, but he still thought Snape's rules about how he talked were stupid. Who cared what he said about himself, if it was true?

Usually Snape wouldn't take 'hmm' for an answer, but today he just held Harry, and Harry just stayed put, gripping onto the front of the man's robes.

But there was something else that he didn't quite know how to deal with on his own, and finally Harry spoke up again, very quietly. “T-They kicked him out,” he told Snape. The words came out shaky, and Harry could feel more tears threatening just from saying it. He buried his head back in Snape's robes and stopped trying to talk.

Oh. Of course. And it hadn't even occurred to him why that might bother Harry. Somewhat. Possibly. Now he really did feel bad, for being harsh. He could've predicted that Harry would've gravitated to the other most damaged boy in the school to make friends. It was enough to make him check into the other three, just so there would be no more surprises.

But Blaise had been good for Harry. A lifesaver, even. He'd given up his home and family so that Harry could have his. Severus wouldn't forget it.

“The Weasleys took him in,” he emphasized to his son, unsure whether the boy was listening or not. “Permanently. He has a home now. He'll be hurting for awhile, but he'll be alright. Arthur and Molly will take very good care of him. Much better than the Luxanus' would've. You'll probably end up envying him, stuck with me with no siblings.”

Harry just gripped him harder, but somehow it told Severus he was listening. And he had an opportunity, here. They weren't, after all, only talking about Blaise. “I don't know Arthur all that well but I know Molly. They are very different than Blaise is used to, but he is safer now than he's ever been before. Molly will do everything in her power to see him do well. She was my first choice to take him. I am very pleased that she and Arthur have decided so quickly that they wanted to take him permanently, and I know that they did not make the decision lightly and they will not back down from it. Blaise has a family now. Forever. He will never have to move again.”

Blaise had told Harry about fathers, before, Severus remembered. Harry had told him. So Blaise knew about that, at least. “I know you don't really believe it, either,” Severus continued, “but you can at least remind Blaise of what I know. He has nothing more to worry about. He just needs to be himself. Molly and Arthur will make this work.”

Eventually, Harry and Snape came back in, and Harry went back to his work without a complaint or a glance in Blaise's direction. It was enough to make Blaise almost forget what he'd looked like when he left. Almost. Blaise wasn't dumb enough to not notice when his presence was causing a conflict. But Harry really did look okay, now, and Blaise focused back on his homework without too much trouble.

After awhile, Blaise ran out of work to do, and started doodling on the back of his History of Magic essay. That lasted all of about ten minutes before Snape got up to look over his shoulder.

“Evanesco that, Mr. Zabini,” he ordered shortly. Blaise obeyed, while Snape went to slowly peruse his bookshelves. By the time the Thestral had been completely removed from his history essay – and transferred to the back of an assignment that had already been graded and returned - Snape had come back and laid several books in a stack on Blaise's desk. One proved to be a thin volume of amusing spells, one was a book on potions theory, and the third was some kind of fiction. Not in a particularly silly mood, Blaise went for the potions book.

Sometime later, a quiet 'pop' alerted him to the presence of Harry's house-elf, Kallie.

“Dinner is being ready, Master Snape, sir,” the house-elf said. “Is Master Snape wanting Kallie to set a place for Master Blaise?”

Blaise had intended to leave and go to the Great Hall for dinner – much as he'd been dreading it and putting it off – but Snape didn't consult him. “Yes, please, Kallie,” he answered.

“Th-that's okay, sir,” Blaise started, “I can-”

Snape gave him a sharp, lingering look, keeping Blaise's gaze for a disconcertingly long time. “Do you wish to leave, Blaise?” he asked him.

Blaise kept himself from swallowing, and held Snape's gaze as the man seemed to want. But did Snape want him to stay, or no? Probably not. Harry was evidently having a hard day – at least partly because of Blaise - and while it was the safest he'd felt in days, and Blaise could feel his heart rate increase just at the thought of leaving it, he had already been in Snape's hair for way too long that day.

“Yes, please,” he answered.

To his surprise, far from showing any hint of relief, Snape's gaze sharpened even further. “Do not lie to me, Mr. Zabini,” he said shortly. He broke eye contact with Blaise to instead look back at Kallie. “Three, Kallie,” he told the elf.

To Blaise's surprise, Harry gave him a small, humor-filled smile. Blaise wasn't sure if he was laughing at Blaise, or at Snape, but it was a friendly expression, and Blaise managed to smile a bit back, even as his heart raced after Snape's sharpness. The man could bloody well read minds. And Blaise had evidently angered him with his...fib. Perfectly normal polite social lie.

“Sorry, sir,” he said softly.

“Do it again and I'll punish you,” Snape responded shortly. “Now come eat.”

Oof. This must be what Harry felt like. Note to self: do not lie to Death Eater spies. Even for said obstinate, interfering Death Eater's own bleedin' benefit. The man was infuriating.

“Yes, sir,” Blaise said softly.

Snape finally kicked Blaise out at curfew – through his potions lab and office and directly into the Slytherin common room without use of the castle corridors. How that was even possible given that as far as Blaise knew all of the teachers' quarters were on a completely different floor from Snape's office and the Slytherin common room - but then that was Hogwarts, for you. The stairways changed. For all Blaise knew, the hallways did, too.

“I will expect you back here tomorrow after class, Mr. Zabini,” Snape said by way of a goodbye.

Heck of an invitation, that. But Blaise wasn't going to cross him, now, and he really didn't mind. “Yes, sir,” he said softly.

The next morning Blaise woke up before his alarm spell, but determinedly rolled over and went back to sleep. The alarm actually went off forty-five minutes later, but after turning it off Blaise found himself staring at the bunk above him. Two days. The thought made his stomach churn, which didn't make getting out of bed any easier. Class, he reminded himself. He couldn't afford to miss class. He could afford to miss breakfast, though, and he really had no interest in eating anyway. That was all the excuse his brain needed to fall right back asleep.

“Blaise,” he heard next. “Blaise, wake up! You'll be late for potions!”

Shit. Blaise sat up fast, to see Theo standing next to his bed with wide eyes.

“You missed breakfast!” he said urgently. “It's already 7:45!”

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Blaise threw his robes on without a care for Theo watching. He could only pray Snape hadn't noticed his absence from breakfast. If he was late for potions – but then, what would change, really? He pretty much had detention anyway. The thought relaxed him, marginally. He had to get through his classes, then go to Snape's office, to do his homework and eat dinner. He'd probably run out of homework again, so he'd bring his own book to read, or something. That was all for today. Classes, then Snape's quarters, where absolutely nothing was expected of him other than studying. He could do that.

He made it on time to Potions, managed to pay enough attention to make a passable – though definitely not wonderful - potion, and got to History of Magic. Finally, he could afford to tune out entirely, only coming to his senses when Binns stopped talking and everybody started streaming out. Somehow, he'd taken notes – and also drawn quite extensive sketches in the margins of his parchment - though he didn't really remember doing either. He followed his classmates out of the classroom, vaguely intending to grab a snack from the Great Hall and head back to his dorm with it, but to his surprise the Slytherin prefect Quintus Stone was standing right outside the door. Blaise started past him, but the fifth-year spoke up shortly.

“Zabini.”

Blaise stopped, and stepped out of the way of the other students before turning towards the prefect. What'd I do? It was unusual for the prefects to have much to do with them outside of the dorm or the Great Hall, and while he knew Harry had tangled with them a couple of times, Blaise himself never had. Blaise gave Stone a puzzled look and waited for him to explain.

“I'm to make sure you eat,” the fifth-year explained.

“Make sure I eat?” Blaise repeated. “Why?”

Stone shrugged. “Ask Snape. He said to come find you and make you come to the Great Hall and eat.”

Blaise growled lightly. “I'm not Harry,” he complained.

The prefect raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to argue with him?”

Tempting. But no. No trouble. To anyone. Ever. “...no,” Blaise answered.

“Well, then, come on,” Stone told him, motioning with his head in the direction of the Great Hall.

“You're going to escort me?” Blaise asked him.

The prefect snorted lightly. “After the three of you – including Potter, mind - managed to sneak past me and end up on the third floor last week? You bet I'm going to escort you. Hell, I'll spoon feed you if I have to.”

“I was just going to grab something and go,” Blaise explained.

“Yes, and I was just going tell Snape I did a half-assed job,” Stone answered shortly. “No way. Come on, Firstie. Nobody'll try anything if I'm with you. They probably won't even glare.”

“Probably,” Blaise repeated, following him towards the Great Hall.

“Are you trying to claim you don't deserve it?” Stone asked, looking down at him as they walked. “You guys single-handedly lost us the House Cup. It's amazing we were doing as well as we were, given Potter and Malfoy's usual behavior, but you guys settled the question for sure.”

“Sorry,” Blaise said. He actually was – he really hadn't expected his classmates to care quite so much, and he really hadn't intended to let his personal problems shit all over his peers – but he couldn't even put enough energy into his voice to sound contrite.

There must've been something in his voice, though, because Stone frowned. “Why is Snape so hung up about you eating, anyway?”

“I just asked you that,” Blaise pointed out.

Stone shrugged. “Somehow in all this trouble, you ended up on his shortlist, and just behind Potter, at that. You'd know better than me what happened to put you there.”

True, Blaise realized. He did know what had happened. Not that he'd tell Stone. “I didn't even know Snape had a 'short list' other than Harry,” Blaise answered.

“Oh yeah,” Stone answered. “Several, actually. You're on one of the 'good' lists, though, so I wouldn't worry. But then, I've never seen Severus latch on to a first-year like he has Potter and you. He's insane about Potter, and now he's watching how much you eat? What happened?”

Blaise shrugged. “Harry happened, I guess,” he answered. “Who else is on these 'lists'?”

“Hmm...” Stone started. “Well, me, actually, and sometimes Rosalind. In seventh year - Manson and Pierce, though I'm not exactly sure what list they're on and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know – nobody in sixth other than Rosalind, unless you want to count Marcus Flint...”

Blaise winced. “...yeah, let's not. I don't think that's the kind of shortlist I want to be on. Who else?”

“Umm...oh – Adrian Pucey, in third. Other third years...oh! Oddly enough, the Weasley twins. At this point I think he's probably on a first-name basis with their mother, from the number of times he or McGonagall has sent them home for a 'chat', but sometimes I think Snape likes a good nemesis.”

Blaise gave him an incredulous look. “Seriously? Fred and George?”

Stone grinned. “I know, crazy, right? But they're apparently bloody geniuses in Potions, at least for third-years, and especially since the thing with Flint, and how they conceded the victory to Slytherin House...I guess he's made an exception. Same goes for your Weasley, I guess, and maybe Granger though I haven't seen much evidence of it 'cause she never gets in trouble. Which brings us to the other first years on the list – Potter, Nott, and you. Though you and Potter are exceptional. I've never seen him worry about what one of us eats before, leastwise not outside of Quiddich matches.”

He paused and gave Blaise a questioning glance, but the last thing Blaise needed was additional attention and questions.

“Which 'list' are you on?” Blaise asked, hoping the question would distract him.

Stone smiled. “Same as you and Potter, just lower down – the 'take-a-step-out-of-line-and-you're-dead' list. The ones he punishes personally instead of taking points. Which you will want to avoid, trust me. He'll make you redo your schoolwork, too, if he doesn't like the grade you got. He'll even do that for other professors, including ones who won't grade your work a second time.”

“Great,” Blaise commented, drawing the word out long. “I've always wanted to be special.” But they were outside the doors to the Great Hall, now. Rolling his eyes – more at his suddenly very 'involved' Head-of-House than at his prefect – Blaise followed Stone into the Great Hall.

Under Stone's annoyingly watchful gaze, Blaise made himself a fish sandwich and forced himself to eat it. To his surprise and pleasure, he was joined at the table five minutes later by Harry, who was evidently still not talking to him but no longer avoiding him entirely. Or, Blaise correctly in his own head, he'd just been cooped up by Snape before, and now had been allowed out. Harry mostly didn't avoid people when he was angry – that was more Weasley's style. Though he didn't usually just not talk to him, either. Harry was anything but passive-aggressive. More aggressive-aggressive. It was a miracle his friend hadn't hit him...or deliberately gotten him in trouble.

But then, that wasn't fair. Harry didn't betray his friends, no matter how angry he was. And from Harry's perspective, getting a friend in trouble with an adult would be an unimaginable betrayal. Which is exactly how I manipulated him into going down the trapdoor with me, he realized. Damn. He really hadn't needed to feel worse, today. But still, it was unusual that Harry wasn't talking to him.

He'd rather speak to him in private, but with Harry this grounded, he wasn't going to get a chance. “Harry,” he said softly. “Talk to me?” It came out more pleading than he really wanted, but Harry did look at him.

“I'm not mad,” he told him in a whisper. Stone could probably hear them, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it. “You wanted me not to get you in trouble.”

“How are you going to get me in trouble by talking to me at lunch?” Blaise asked him.

It at least earned him a smile. “I'd manage,” he said softly.

Blaise smiled back as much as he could. “True,” he said softly.

He didn't quite believe Harry's explanation, but he did believe that his friend wasn't angry with him anymore. Which helped. Two days.

Somehow, he managed to get through the rest of his classes that day. At the end of the day, though, Blaise found himself hesitating on where to go. Snape had made it clear that he was to come to his office after classes were over for the day, and Blaise's classes were over, now. Did Snape really want him hanging out in his office all the time, though? Especially with Harry having such a hard time?

Probably not. Maybe Blaise should give him an hour or two, just to be safe. He didn't quite dare disobey after the man's reaction to Blaise claiming he wanted to do dinner in the Great Hall, but he could...hedge it, a little. Give the man what time he could and still fulfill the letter of his demand. Blaise let his feet take him back to the dorm, and curled up with his homework in his common room.

It took about fifteen minutes before Blaise became aware of a presence nearby, and Blaise felt his stomach drop as he looked up at his scowling Head-of-House.

“Come, Zabini,” the man said shortly.

Blaise didn't dare disobey, and followed his Head-of-House through a discrete door to one side of the Common Room and directly into Snape's office. Harry was already there, set up in the same spot as he'd been yesterday, working on whatever was going on with his trunk. This time, though, instead of pointing Blaise to the desk he'd worked at last night, Snape turned and gazed directly into Blaise's eyes.

“I told you to come here after classes. Did you misunderstand my instructions, Mr. Zabini?”

Well, no, but wasn't it a little above-and-beyond to actually demand that Blaise come to his office after class when he hadn't done anything wrong?

Not that he expected Snape to care, though, Blaise realized. He'd done exactly this to Harry, and Stone had seemed familiar with it, too. Snape had even told Blaise that he was going to be keeping a closer eye on him. Apparently, this was the 'shortlist' Stone had been talking about. The “take-a-step-out-of-line-and-you're-dead” shortlist on which Blaise was supposedly entry #2. Stone had tried to warn him.

Snape's gaze was intense, but Blaise managed to hold it and answer. “No, sir,” he said. He'd learned better than to lie to his Head-of-House yesterday. He'd never actually tried it, before that.

“Then why did you disobey me?” the man demanded.

Blaise nearly winced, but held his face still. Snape had been angrier with him before, but it hadn't felt quite so...personal.

“I did not wish to bother you, sir,” Blaise answered him respectfully. He canted his eyes over to Harry. He was unwilling to say anything with his friend listening in, but Snape would probably catch his meaning.

“So you disobeyed me for my own good,” Snape said, staring down at Blaise in a way that made him shiver. “I see.”

And then, awfully, he just stood there, staring down at Blaise. He fought to maintain the man's gaze, desperately trying to think of what he was supposed to say or do to appease the man.

“I said what I meant, Mr. Zabini,” Snape said at last. “I wanted you to come here after class. It is not your business what will 'bother' me, or what Harry needs. I am the adult. It is your business to obey me. Is that understood?”

Blaise swallowed hard but didn't allow himself to stammer. “Yes, sir,” he said. His voice came out quiet, but even.

Still, Snape stared, as if he would scan Blaise's brain, or turn him to stone like a basilisk could.

“I am not pleased, Mr. Zabini,” he said. “Sit at the desk. You will be writing lines, this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir,” Blaise told him, obeying quickly. A moment later, Snape placed a piece of parchment and a quill in front of him.

“Fifty times, Zabini,” Snape told him, “And neatly, or you will do it over.”

At the top of the parchment was written, “It is not my job to take care of adults. It is their job to take care of me. I will obey my Head-of-House.”

Staring at the line, Zabini felt bitterness grab him by the throat. Their job to take care of him? Really? What kind of bullshit was that? His father was dead. Long dead. His mother was in prison. Who, exactly, was supposed to be taking care of him? The Luxanises, maybe? Or before that, Carolyn Luxanus' second cousin, Mrs. Caulter?

If it was supposed to be adults' job to take care of him, they weren't doing a very good job. Sure, Snape took care of him, especially recently, but – but something in him clamped down on the anger at the thought. Snape did take care of him, as much as he could, and of the rest of the house, too. Even if he hadn't been on the supposed 'short list', Snape had earned his trust. It wasn't fair to curse him out, even in his head. But Snape was the last adult in the world who actually still cared about him. He just hadn't wanted to cause the man any trouble, and instead Snape was mad at him. It didn't feel fair.

But he couldn't afford to be at odds with him, anyway. “Yes, sir,” Blaise said softly.

To his surprise, the man laid a gentle hand on his head before returning to his own desk. The sympathy nearly brought Blaise to tears. Two days. More like one and a half, even – a day plus two nights. The tension was horrible.

Once again, Blaise spent the entire evening with his friend and his Head-of-House. When his lines were done, he did his homework, and by the time his homework was done, it was dinnertime. As before, Snape didn't even ask whether he wanted to stay for dinner – and this time neither did Kallie. She just came and said dinner was ready, and Blaise followed Snape and Harry back into Snape's quarters to eat it. After dinner, Snape brought out a game of wizard's chess, and Blaise worked on teaching Harry how to play until his Head-of-House sent him back to his dorm to sleep.

“I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Mr. Zabini,” Snape told him by way of a goodbye.

After this afternoon, Blaise couldn't take it as anything other than a command. “Yes, sir,” he said softly.